*While this poem auto-posted, I boarded a plane to Chicago with a one-way ticket in hand. I am attempting to make it in the big city. Should I find a job before my savings runs out, I will become a resident of Illinois. Should I run out of money, I will return to California knowing I gave it my best shot. There may be a few interruptions in my blog posts, but for the most part, I will continue to write as usual; I am after all, a writer first, a human second. That being said, expect pictures.

On my Final day in Chicago, Robbie took me to see the historic Wrigley Field. There was a game going on, So I got to see what it is like on a game day. We had walked past it several times on our way home from the subway, throughout my visit, but it was always at night so I hadn’t really experienced it yet.

One very interesting thing was the stadium seating on the rooftops of apartment buildings near the field. There is no big parking lot, or any grassy fields near the stadium. It goes from apartments and businesses on one side, right to the stadium on the other. It’s an exciting feeling, being right in the middle of it.

We decided not to actually go to the game, since I’m not much of a sports fan. There was enough history on the walls around the stadium to suit me just fine.

Robbie also took me to a mystic shop where I picked up some Chamomile tea, and a Hematite ring on the cheap. Finally we stopped at a Chicago diner, where the waiter tried to talk me out of getting on the plane home. I’m not going to lie, I really wanted to say, “Okay, I’ll stay.” He even hugged me and said, “I hope to see you again soon.”

Robbie’s roommate offered to let me live there, and I was assured by multiple people with the appropriate authority that a job was mine if I decided to stay. It was a hard to say no. But there was an adorable dog and a loving husband waiting for me back home, so when the time came, I did get on the plane; but not without a long and tearful goodbye with Robbie.

Boy was I sorry I got on the plane once I landed in Huston! For some reason, United scheduled barely an hour between my flight from Chicago and my flight to Ontario. My first flight took too long to taxi to the gate, and by the time I could get off the plane I had 12 minutes to get from gate E3 to gate B85. For those of you who are not familiar with Huston, you know that that is FAR, FAR apart. I ran, literally, through the airport. No Stops, strait to my gate. Luckily the signs are fairly clear. By the time I actually got to the gate, they were paging me. I told at the United employee that I was the person she was paging in between pants- I am really out of shape.

“I don’t know what you’ve been doing. The planes been here since 9.” She grumped at me while scanning my boarding pass.

“I was taxing on the runway. It’s your plane that took too long!” I snarled back. Since when is being rude considered customer service? FAIL United. Total Fail.

Before I even got out the last word she rolled her eyes at me and waved her hand to shush me. ” Well you’re the last person to board. They’re waiting.” She said in the most snarky tone I’ve ever heard.

I growled (yeah, I was that pissed off) and stomped down the ramp to my plane. The crew on this plane made up for the cow that I talked to in Huston.

The Flight attendant called over the intercom, “has anyone lost a wallet?”

Everyone immediately looked around.

“Now that we have your attention, please pay attention to an important safety announcement.”

Everyone laughed, relieved their wallets were safe, and paid attention.

Even though my entire visit to Huston consisted of a jog through the airport and an interaction with one employee, my view of that city will be forever tainted by my bad experience. I don’t think I will ever visit there as a tourist. I can guarantee you I will never, NEVER book a flight that has a layover there, especially if I am flying United. Bad impressions tend to be more permanent than good ones. I’m not sure why, but it’s how the world works.

I arrived back in Ontario, and had lunch with my husband before driving an hour and a half home. I had only slept three hours the night before, and was more than a little cranky. At my Husband’s urging I laid down for a nap, and didn’t wake up until the following day. Jet lag is apparently a real thing.

With that, my journey was at an end. I will definitely return to Chicago at the first opportunity. Maybe to live there, who knows.

Half way through my visit I had the immeasurable pleasure of visiting the Chicago Art institute. It is an enormous museum that houses amazing pieces from all over the world, from Africa, to Europe, to Japan. Sadly the Egyptian exhibit was not open yet, but I honestly wouldn’t have had time to see it all anyway; Partially because I lingered at the impressionists, but mostly because the renaissance art nearly took my breath away. I actually had to sit in the room with the Italian renaissance art. It overpowered me. Just thinking of the mastery that these artists must have to create such exquisite, lifelike portraits staggers me.

Some of my pictures are below. Robbie limited me to two pictures per room, because he wanted me to see as much as possible and he knew I would spend three hours per room trying to catalog it all. In the end it was wise, given that the pictures do not begin to do any of it justice. To get the true experience, you have to be standing before these pieces in person. Nothing else will do.

There was a park outside the Museum, called Millennium Park, that was nearly as stunning as the inside.

Chicago has this huge landmark that I will not pretend to understand. I am not a modern art person. But I was there, so what the heck, I took a picture of it.

That night I got to tour the bars. The first bar we went to was having a throwback to the early 90’s night. Barf. I despise 80’s and early 90’s music, with very few exceptions. But in the spirit of being somewhere new, I danced. After a couple hours, we walked to a new bar. It was a cute little dive bar with a seaside theme that I unfortunately don’t remember the name of, and sang karaoke. This bar I loved. I am not ashamed to say I rock out, karaoke style. I got to hang out with a bunch of Robbie’s friends, who welcomed me and made me feel at home. I don’t really remember getting back to Robbie’s house. I vaguely remember a cab. You know why.

On my Second to last night one of Robbie’s friends was having a surprise birthday party for another friend, so Robbie brought me along. I felt a bit awkward at first, since Robbie was really the only person I knew. But again the good people of Chicago folded me into the conversation like I knew them for years, making me feel right at home. We ate at an Italian restaurant, then we went to a couple bars in Boys town. This is the primarily gay district of Chicago. I had a blast! I don’t remember the name of the first club, but it had loud dance music and the accompanying music videos on the walls. Nothing I’m used to, but I found it entertaining. I love how open and proud the gay community is. There are a lot of places in this country where being who you are is still not okay. I was pleased to find that Chicago is not one of those places.

The next place we went is a well known local hot spot called Berlin. There was actually a cover charge, something I have heard about but never experienced. The inside was blaring with techno music, with people of all shapes sizes and genders dancing together. I enjoyed dancing, but I only hung in there until about 2 am. The loud music, drinking and dancing are all not things I typically indulge in, so I was tired. Robbie was a good sport and noticed I was losing steam, so he was the one who suggested we take a cab home.

The view from Robbie’s rooftop, Pictured above. Various Buildings and sights I snapped shots of while walking around below.

My first couple of days in Chicago were spent exploring the busy, touristy part of Chicago. On the first day we visited Willis Tower, which is more well known by its previous name, the Sears Tower. Interestingly, what it is called depends on who you ask. Robbie’s flight attendant roommate, who is also from England, says that it is the Willis tower. Chicago natives and transplants say vehemently, “I don’t care what it says on the front. It will always be the Sears Tower.” That attitude seems to be more common than those who accept the skyscrapers re-branding.

I had the pleasure of visiting the Sky deck, on the 103rd floor of the Tower. At $19 a ticket, the price seemed a bit steep. But, this being my first visit to Chicago, it would seem a shame to miss it, so up we went.

The lobby going up to the Skydeck has a lot of fascinating facts, and Robbie filled me in on any that they didn’t have posted on the walls. For example, The Tower contains 76,000 tons of steel. There is 44,000 miles of wiring within the Tower. There are 6 robots that wash the window of the tower, which takes weeks to complete. Sears tower was built in 1973, and held the record for the tallest building in the world for almost 25 years. On a clear day you can see for 50 miles out of the window.

The elevators to this deck are extremely fast. It only took about a minute to reach the top. It felt much like it does when an airplane is taking off. As someone who enjoys heights, I loved it.

There are these glass boxes that stick out from the side of the building, allowing tourists a view strait down to the city streets below. Standing in this box unnerved me just a bit. I know that the builders would never risk a lawsuit, so I know that these boxes must be able to take the weight of a an elephant; but the thing is, there were a lot of people piling into them, and I’ve never looked straight down through glass that far. I have a picture below, But the glair off the glass masks the overwhelming feel of the view.

Once I had my feet back on solid steel and concrete, I got some really beautiful pictures of the city out the window.

The writer in me couldn’t resist getting a picture of the Chicago sun times Building.

In the gift shop downstairs there were these cool little museum-like displays about different Chicago events. I gravitated to this one about the Great Chicago Fire, history being a favorite subject of mine. The fire burned for roughly two days in 1871. The Windy City unfortunately provided the perfect conditions to fan the flames. The damage spanned across 4 miles and did an estimated 2 million dollars in damage. Roughly 300 people died. Looking at these silver spoons melted together was as eerie to me as seeing images of the Titanic wreckage.

I bought a postcard and a magnet, and then we headed out to see more of the Windy City. For dinner, we had to get a Chicago deep dish pizza. Robbie is a vegetarian, so we ordered spinach, artichoke and cheese. Yum!

My impression of the people here was mixed. When walking around or sitting next to someone on the subway, everyone acts like you aren’t there, even though you cannot help physically touching the people next to you. Not in the creepy, “I must touch it!” sort of way. More like, there as so many people next to you that your arm and hers are pressed up against one another. Your other leg is touching the guy on your other side. I am not accustomed to being close to strangers at all, so this was something that took a bit of getting used to. But some people were exceptionally friendly. Throughout the week I was hugged by numerous new acquaintances. More than one person told me they would like it if I stayed in Chicago. A not-so-small part of me really wanted to stay.

By the end of our first day, My legs and feet were killing me. I estimate that we walked at least 7 miles. I don’t even walk to the store where I live. It’s too far away. But Robbie took no pity on me, and rightfully so. I was not about to wuss out on seeing as much of Chicago as I could. The moment I saw the city from the top of the Tower, I was in love. My feet had little choice but to get on board.

My flight arrived at the San Francisco airport on schedule, descending over breathtaking views of the Bay. My first thought upon landing in San Francisco were of sheer delight. The plane was small, and the person in front of me had their seat back for the entire flight, crunching my legs into space only a 2 door Honda sedan would dare to call sufficient.

Once I disembarked, I felt a bit overwhelmed. Everything I expected of Ontario airport I got from San Francisco. So many people, such a big place. Finding my flight information was easy; there were monitors all over the place. My flight was delayed. I expected that, having heard about the Huston flight back in Ontario. The reason cited was “awaiting aircraft”. I figured this meant that it would get there when it got there. I tried to find my gate right away. I didn’t want to be lost when my plane finally did arrive. I got turned around twice, but eventually found my way.

I passed dozens of shops. See’s candy. Tortilla shops. Cellular shops. Neck Pillows for $34.99. Thank god I brought mine from home. Once I got to my gate, I felt the familiar High-school uncertainty of finding a place to sit. It was very artsy, with odd shaped chairs and round ottomans mixed in with traditional airport rows. There wasn’t many places empty, and dozens of people were walking around looking for places together. My flight had not been the only one delayed. I found a seat near a power outlet, where I could plug in my laptop and fiddle with Photoshop while I wait.

I will give San Francisco airport this; it may be very confusing, but it has plenty of places to plug in mobile devices.

It amazes me how so many people can be in one place, all making noise and yet no one talking to anyone. The whole row where I sat people didn’t even make eye contact. I made use of the extra hour, and avoided the other people back by doodling the picture below.

It was inspired by the guy sitting behind me talking loudly on his cell phone about being excited to go back to Hawaii from a semester stay in London. He was stuck in San Francisco waiting for his connecting flight. He kept talking about how warm it was in the airport. I thought about how relative warmth or cold is to people based on where they are from. Here I was wearing a sweater and chastising myself for choosing to wear sandals. I was cold the entire flight over, and I had all my closed toe shoes in my checked bag. I think he noticed I was listening in, becuase he moved a few rows over and started talking more quietly. Oops. If I ever thought I might run into him again I might have been embarassed, but there is zero chance of that, and if he meant for his conversation to be private he might not want to be shouting into a phone in a room full of people. Just saying.

When they finally announced our flight would be boarding, a collective sigh went up, along with a few cheers.

This flight was completely full, and it was one of the larger planes. I waited 20 minuites for my group to be allowed to board. I crammed into the window seat with a magical view of the engine. This flight would be nearly 4 hours, crossing 2 time zones. It took forever to taxi onto the runway, but when we finally, finally took off the excitement of being on our way again took over, keeping me from sleep.

I was over being crammed next to two silent strangers, sitting next to a noisy engine, and having ice cold air blasted at my feet before it even began to get dark outside my plane window. At that point, we still had two hours of travel ahead. I hadn’t bought a snack on the airplane because it was way overpriced, and I was afraid sliding my debit card would lock it up for my husband back home (we have been having an issue with our bank thinking everything we do is unauthorized, even though I have told them my husband’s job cover’s three counties. They lock our card and we have to call to unlock it before we can access our funds. Can’t do that from a plane.) So I was really hungry, really cold, and really tired. Travel is not nearly as glamorous as I thought it would be.

We landed at O’Hair Airport after midnight Chicago time, just under two hours late. I walked what felt like a mile to the baggage claim, trying to coordinate a meet up with my friend on my cell phone. I saw him before he saw me, and I couldn’t help but feeling overjoyed. The discomfort and hassle of travel suddenly didn’t matter. I told him to turn around, at which point he squished me in a bear hug. After all that disappointment, there it was. The Hollywood perfection of seeing someone you love after a long time apart.

My Chicago friend and I, We will call him Robbie, have been friends since we were 11. Both of us have flame red hair and pasty white skin. For most of our school years, people assumed we were brother and sister. We don’t actually look anything alike, save our complexion, but redheads are rare in my corner of the universe, so people make assumptions. Over the years we have been roommates several times, coworkers, classmates, and the dearest of friends. Even When Robbie was in the navy we stayed in touch through letters, all of which I still have. I don’t know why we have always been so connected, we just are. Robbie had a really ugly break up, and he wanted a fresh start, so he moved to Chicago, his favorite station when he was in the Navy. Once he was settled, he invited me to visit.

So here I was, being crushed by my dearest Robbie, finally seeing the Chicago he had been raving about since we were teenagers. I squashed him right back. A few moments of no air, and a bunch of people shoving past us made us realize we were blocking the path to the baggage claim. We laughed and retrieved my giant pink Hawaiian print luggage. Then Robbie asked me if I wanted to take a cab or if I was up for the subway.

“which is cheaper?” I asked. Silly me.

“Subway is always cheaper. But do you think you can handle it? We have to walk a ways.” Robbie warned me.

“It’s fine, let’s do the subway.”

When Robbie said it was a ways, I though he meant, two maybe three parking lot distances.

No. You descend into the bowels of the airport, and walk a very long ways until you get to the train. Robbie bought me a card that you use to pay for the subway. It makes an entertaining, “Bing-bong” noise when you hold it over the reader. Very new age stuff.

The train, however, was ancient. We were in the very last car, and it sounded like it was going to derail about every 15 seconds. Each little bump in the track lurched us into one another. Across from me sat a rather loud African American homeless man singing the blues off key. He stared at me the entire ride. I ignored him and tried to talk only to Robbie.

When we approached our stop Robbie jumped up and said, “come on this is our stop.”

The train lurched to a stop, and the doors opened only for a moment. I leapt out, feeling as though I’d jumped off a boat. The doors closed behind me and the train took off. Now I understood why he got out of his seat before the train stopped moving; Chicago subway trains only stop for about 20 or 30 seconds.

I thought that we would be on our way to his home from there, but instead we got on a bus. Robbie was my personal tour guide, talking to me about all the neighborhoods we were going through along the way. The sheer size of Chicago was staggering to me. It was hard to be impressed by the architecture just yet, since it was so late at night.

Finally we arrived in Lakeview, one neighborhood of Chicago. We then walked 6 blocks to Robbie’s apartment building. We took the elevator to the 12th floor. He made me a bed on an air mattress, and I sacked out for the night.